THE

FLOOD OF THESSALY.

PART THE FIRST.

Genus mortale sub undis

Perdere, et ex omni nimbos dimittere cœlo.

Ovid. Metam.

IN THESSALY, while yet the world was young,Soon after Chaos, touched with light and form, Lost its vague being, and sprung up alarm'd To beautiful order,-in the pleasant vale Of Tempé, where the meadows still are green, The waters bright, the forests flourishing, Lived Pyrrha and the young Deucalion. -She was Pandora's child, who in gone days

Had for her dowry that most deadly gift

Which filled the world with pain: His sire was called Prometheus, the great Titan, who lay stretch'd

Huge as a mammoth on the barren edge

Of Caucasus, where day by day, earth-lured,
Jove's bird, the ravenous vulture, like a cloud
Came sailing by the sun to feast on blood.
He was the Titan's son; yet did he bow
To Themis and before great Jove who reigned
Supreme upon the hills Olympian :

First God and reigning spirit was he who hurled
The scythed Saturn from his ancient throne,
And cast him with an arm unfilial

Headlong from out the skies, to walk the earth
Undeified, where as a man he taught

The Latian people many an useful art,

And shed the golden time o'er Italy.

Pyrrha and young Deucalion !-fair names

As ever shone in fable or old song,

Tradition or recording history:

In green youth were they lovers, tho' scarce known

The bud which after blossom'd into love;
Still lovers, tho' now wedded with consent
Of their own gentle hearts, before the face
Of all the stars that crowd the summer sky.
How beautiful they were may not be told;
Yet both were beautiful, and one so fair

That when her glossy ringlets downwards fell,
Serpenting o'er her shoulders smooth and white
As marble, (such the Parians wrought) she seemed
A happy Dryad from the woods escaped,

Or Naiad who had left her watery cave
Content to dwell with man: -Deucalion trod
The green earth as the feathered herald trod,
(Jove's son and starry Maia's,—always young)
And round about his temples the black curls
Hung thick, and clustering left his forehead bare.
His eye was like the eagle's, wild and keen,

And his mouth parted but to speak of love :
Not huge, yet giant-sprung, his towering youth
Rose into manhood, like a Titan born.

Careless of all the world save one sweet care, And in each other lost they dreamt away

The hours, well pleased on fragrant lawns to stray
In balmy autumn, or thro' summer groves,
Or beside fountains where the noonday heat
Came never; gentlest Pyrrha silent then,
And listening to her lover's voice so low,
Which, while it languish'd or spoke soft reproach,
Hung like sweet music in her charmed ear.

At last they wed: No voice of parent spoke
Ungentle words which now too often mar
Life's first fair passion: then no gods of gold
Usurping swayed with bitter tyranny

That sad domain the heart. Love's rule was free,
(Ranging through boundless air and happy heaven,
And earth) when Pyrrha wed the Titan's son.
-The winds sang at their nuptial gentle tunes,
And roses opened, on whose crimson hearts
The colour of love is stamped; and odours rare
Came steaming from the morn-awakening flow'rs,
Which then forgot to close: Thessalian pipes
Were heard in vallies, and from thickets green
The Sylvans peeped delighted, then drew back
And shouted thro' the glades: Wood nymphs lay then